Apologies for my long silence; it has been many weeks since my last letter. You may still be picturing Anil and I where left off: at the foot of a cliff in Mustang surrounded by scrolls. In fact, you’ll probably be shocked at how far we have come from there and I am not only (or even primarily) speaking geographically.
It all began with one of the scrolls, a travelogue describing the Hidden Land of sBas yul ‘bras mo ljongs. I’m not sure I can adequately articulate the impact this scroll had on me. It described a magic-realist place wherein every facet — from the tallest mountain to the smallest patch of dirt — is imbued with profound spiritual meaning, a dimension inhabited and governed by nāgiṇīs and nāgas, by boddhisattvas and divine kings, a power-land dripping with potential for outer exploration and inner purification. Although some of the villagers were packing up for the return trip, once I read this scroll I determined that Anil and I could not go home again. We have instead become gnas skor ba.
Let me explain what this means. ‘Gnas’ is our word for sacred place; a ‘gnas skor ba’ is, literally, someone who circles around it. Perhaps a Western word that might make sense to you is ‘pilgrim’. Pilgrimage is quite widespread here in Tibet. Although superficially it involves what you might expect, a visit to a sacred place, it is undertaken for much deeper purposes than mere tourism. Some undertake pilgrimage to pray for a specific outcome, others to connect with and draw inspiration from the holy energy of a place, still more to accumulate merit or erase negative karma that has accumulated through past deeds. Regardless of intent, a Tibetan pilgrimage always involves some kind of connection with the deities that inhabit the gnas. The ultimate goal of this connection is internal spiritual development.
But enough of the theory! You probably want to know about the practical implications. Anil and I rode by horse with the returning villagers as far as the nearest road and then hitched a ride in the back of a truck heading west. The hitchhiker next to me in the truck-bed turned out to be a pilgrim destined for Ti-se (you might know it as Mount Kailesh), one of the most sacred places in Tibet. Anil and I chose to interpret this chance meeting as fortuitous — our new destination (pictured below) had been determined!
I won’t tell you about the many weeks it took to cross almost the whole of our country. We walked and hitchhiked, we stopped for days (and in Lhasa, weeks) at a time to work on construction projects and trade our building expertise for supplies and accommodation. In this way we resembled early Tibetans who, through their pilgrimage activity, spread cultural practices, built trade routes and created a wider Tibetan identity. Our journey was long and sometimes very hard. But there is a Tibetan proverb that says, “Better to drink arak with a heart of good intention than to go on pilgrimage with a heart of evil intent”. We worked hard to keep our spirits up and our intentions pure.
At long last we were dropped at a trail head for the last leg of our journey, a hike into the rugged heart of the Himalaya. The terrain could not have been more unlike that of Pemako. Instead of sumptuous, impenetrable foliage and masses of verdant rhododendrons, the land was open, dry and uneven, traversed by cold, clear springs. Not far up the trail we came to a monastery perched on the bank of one of these streams. A group of renunciants was gathered at the water’s edge. Dressed in the characteristic Gelug-pa robes, these monks were using coloured grains of sand to painstakingly construct a mandala. And not just any mandala but one that we would come to view as symbolic of both our journey and of Ti-se itself: the Kālacakra mandala.
What the monks were building was a staggeringly complex image made up of concentric circles and squares. I’ve included a picture of it below. Seeing our interest, one of the monks interpreted the mandala for us. Without exception, each shape, pattern, figure and colour in the Kālacakra mandala has significance, in fact often multiple levels of significance! Most commonly, the mandala is seen to represent a symbolic map of the Tibetan cosmos. The central area is Mount Meru; the sides of the squares represent the walls of the fantastic palace that sits at its peak. Meru is surround by rings of the four elements: fire, wind, water and earth. On a second level, the mandala is also a ‘map’ of the human figure and psyche; the nested squares represent enlightened body, speech and mind. Thirdly, scattered throughout the mandala are highly significant Tibetan symbols: lotus blossoms that sometimes represent purity; thunderbolt scepters symbolizing indestructibly or ultimate power; dharma wheels representing the path and teachings; and Sanskrit characters (or seed syllables) that represent deities. You are probably overwhelmed with all this detail but, suffice to say, this is a radically abridged description of the mandala and the meaning contained within it. The main points, however, are two: virtually every grain of sand in the mandala means something; and the mandala is both an inner and an outer representation of the world. As we continued along the path toward Ti-se, the monks were preparing to sweep the mandala — despite the days of work it took to create it — into the river. Yet another lesson in impermanence!
One of the monks from the monastery had agreed to accompany and instruct us on the final stage of our pilgrimage. As Ti-se rose ever closer in front of us, we fell into conversation about what the mandala could teach us about the holy mountain. You may be surprised. Buddhist tradition teaches that the area around Ti-se is a massive three-dimensional mandala and Ti-se, lying at its center, is Mount Meru itself! Rooted deeply in the nether regions and ascending to the realms of heaven, it is the axis mundi of the world. As we walked, we were actually moving through the sacred geography depicted in the Kālacakra mandala. Each rock, like each grain of sand, had significance. And, like the Kālacakra, our journey had the potential for inner transformation and interpretation as well. A journey around Ti-se is a journey into oneself. But approaching Ti-se in this way requires a devout attitude and a pure heart. As the import of this hit home, conversation ebbed and we fell silent.
Of course, when you are traveling with a fourteen year old boy, silence never lasts long! Anil was more interested in other legends about Ti-se. It was the site of a great battle between Milarepa (representing Buddhism) and Naro-Bonchung (representing Bon) for Tibet’s religious allegiance. The two saints staged a race to the summit. While Naro-Bunchung began to ride upward on a magic drum, Milarepa sat silently in meditation. It was only when Naro-Bunchung had almost reached the top that Milarepa ascended on a ray of sunlight to claim victory. Heady stuff for a young boy! To this day, Milarepa is the only person ever to have stood on Ti-se’s summit; to even attempt an ascent is sacrilege. We Tibetan’s sometimes chuckle — and sometimes shudder — at you Westerners scrambling to the top of Chomolungma, another sacred mountain. (You know it as Mount Everest.) Instead of climbing up a holy mountain, we walk around it. And just a single circumambulation of Ti-se is said to erase all the bad karma one has accumulated in one’s present incarnation.
We began our circumambulation by burning juniper that I have carried with me since Pemako, an offering to the Buddha Demchog who makes this place his home. As we took our first steps a strong wind arose from the south, an auspicious indication that our offering had been accepted and our cleansing had begun.
We continued in a clockwise direction as our new friend, the lama, instructed us on proper observances. At each of the eight cardinal directions we paid homage to the ten direction protectors (N, S, E, W, NE, NW, SE, SW, up and down). Within view to the south lies Lake Manasarovar, the female consort of the male mountain; taken together, the two represent the mystical union of female and male sensibilities. A crystalline stream flowed downward to our left toward Manasarowar and we sprinkled water in her honour. From other streams, we drank deeply of the divine nectar.
Other sights abounded. Our lama pointed out trees whose branches bent to form the seed syllables of deities from the Heaven of the Thirty-three, cairns to Mañjuśrī and Amitābha to which we added stones, giant footprints still visible in solid rock that had been left by the Buddha himself, and small plots of earth that marked the underground terrains of nāga kings. As we progressed, each of Ti-se’s four faces came progressively into view, representations of the four Noble Kings: Dhṛtarāṣṭra, ruler of the east; Virūḍhaka, of the south; Virūpākṣa, of the west; and Vaisravaṇa, of the north. At every step we were reminded that we were moving amidst a pantheon of deities and protectors.
Despite all the outward marvels, the lama stressed that it is the sanctity of the inner space that cannot be forgotten. Although neither Anil nor I are meditation adepts, we stopped repeatedly to bring our attention to the current moment. At other times we chanted oṃ maṇe padme hūṃ, the mantra of Avalokiteśvara, protector of Tibet, both gaining merit and invoking his compassion. Although I was told that our circumambulation would likely take three days, we were for the most part unaware of the passage of time; the landscape itself was timeless.
So have we been purified? Am I a changed man? Yes, I suspect so. The most profound indication of this is my outlook regarding our future. We began this journey without knowing where it would lead. Although this remains unresolved, it no longer seems to matter in the same way. I have been in touch with with people from our village yet neither Anil nor I are eager to return there immediately. For now, we remain in Lhasa supporting ourselves as builders. Tomorrow we will continue our pilgrimage with a visit to the Jowo Buddha in the temple here. Anil is keen to approach the Buddha with full prostrations; I think I will join him.
After that, who knows? Bodh Gaya or Sarnath? Lotus Lake or Bodnath? There are many pilgrimages left to be done.
